


The Race is the Game

by madridistagoblue



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Pre-Slash, Street Racing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 16:22:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9192599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madridistagoblue/pseuds/madridistagoblue
Summary: "Tell me, why is it that you drive?"That should be a simple enough question. But high-school student and tofu delivery driver, Furihata Kouki, has never thought of himself as a driver, let alone a street racer. Now one of Japan's fastest and wealthiest racers, Akashi Seijuurou, is eating tofu soup at his house and asking him personal questions, all in an attempt to lure him back out to the mountain passes. Why should Furihata want to partake in such a dangerous activity? And what was it that made Akashi so passionate about driving anyway?Street Racing AU; loosely based on the anime/manga series Initial D(No need to be familiar with the series to enjoy.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to the prompt: "Akafuri - Kiss because I don’t want you to go and maybe I can convince you to stay just a few minutes longer." 
> 
> Furihata's backstory in this AU is adapted from the anime/manga series Initial D -- a story about a high-school kid, Fujiwara Takumi who, despite caring very little about cars, develops high-level racing techniques as a delivery driver for his dad's tofu shop. Both Takumi and Furihata in this AU drive a Toyota AE86 Trueno. No knowledge of Initial D is needed to enjoy the AU or understand the plot.
> 
> The title is taken from the eurobeat song of the same title by Dave Rodgers.
> 
> Note: "Togue" is the Japanese term for a mountain pass.

"So, can I plan on seeing you again?"

Furihata's eyes widened, as he stared down into his bowl of soup, avoiding eye contact with Akashi.

"W-what do you mean?" Furihata asked, collecting his breath and looking up, expecting to see red eyes trained on his trembling figure. Instead, he exhaled at the sight in front of him; Akashi was burying his face behind a large bowl of soup, leaning his head back to pour out every last drop of its contents. When he finished, he let out a sigh and placed the empty bowl on the table with a small satisfied smile. It was the most relaxed Furihata had ever seen him. He looked almost casual, dressed in a black button-down shirt, dark jeans, and the one silver chain he always wore, staring longingly at the now empty bowl of tofu soup. The only thing contrasting from his relaxed image was the fact that he was sitting in formal _seiza_ \-- yet, his inability to shake his formality completely, even when relaxed, was oddly endearing.

"At the _togue_ ," Akashi replied, looking up from the bowl, finally. "It would be my honor to race against you again one day."

"I-I told you!" Furihara sputtered, looking back down at his bowl. "Our battle was just one time! I'm not a s-street racer, or something. I don't do that!"  

"Funny," Akashi replied with a chuckle. "I could have sworn your friend -- Fukuda, was it? -- said something about you driving down the mountain every day."

"To deliver my dad's tofu that you're so happily consuming," Furihata quipped back. Where exactly he had suddenly found the confidence to talk back to Akashi he wasn't sure, but something about how relaxed the atmosphere was could certainly have been part of it.

"So are you saying that unless I come watch you at four AM, I'll never see you again?" Akashi asked.

For some reason, the question made Furihata's heart feel as though it had slammed into his chest -- like a fishtailing car crashing into a guardrail. "You could come to the tofu shop!?" he suggested. "You seemed to like the meal."

Akashi chuckled to himself and shook his head. "I don't often have a free evening during your father's hours I'm afraid. But, perhaps, I will have to become a patron on my days off. It's been some time since I tasted tofu soup so delicious. Yet, I do wish I could see you more often. Your style of driving intrigues me."

"I don't think it's anything special," Furihata replied, with a small nervous chuckle. Then, he quieted, suddenly realizing the implications of what he had just said. "I-I'm sorry," he apologized quickly, "I'm not trying to insult you by saying you…you know…lost to a loser or something!  It's just…I know this mountain really well, you know?! I'm sure I'd have lost anywhere else! It's not like I know any racing techniques or anything."

"Not by the book," Akashi said. "That doesn't mean you don't know them instinctively."

"You're giving me too much credit. Really."

"Furihata," Akashi said, and then paused, the way a mother might call a child or a sensei might call a student before lecturing them.

Furihata looked into Akashi's eyes, surprised by the sudden gravitas that the use of his name had brought to the conversation.

"Tell me, why is it that you drive?" he asked.

"To del--"

"And, please," Akashi interrupted, "do not respond with a half-witted answer about delivering tofu for your father."

"B-but…"

"One of the things that impressed me the most about your driving was how perfectly synchronized you seemed with your 86. Rarely are my instincts wrong. You feel something when you drive. I am sure of it." 

"I don't know…"

"How did it feel, when you raced against me?" Akashi asked. "Can you describe what was going through your mind?"

"Well, at first I was horrified that I was doing it, because it's _dangerous,_ and _illegal_ , and I could have _killed myself._ Did you know, the Trueno doesn't have airbags like these fancy modern cars do? It doesn't have anti-lock brakes, either. Or power-assisted steer…"

"I assure you, I already know all of the specifications of your car," Akashi responded, "and not simply the stock ones, either."

"H-how…?"

"My teammates call it the 'Emperor Eye'," Akashi replied, in a joking tone that Furihata hadn't realized Akashi even knew how to use. "I won't disclose the true secrets. But you're getting off track. Your feelings while driving? Remember?"

"Aaah, yes. So, at first I was terrified. But…then it was, kind of fun I guess? I wish I could answer your question, I really do. But it's more like I just kind of decided that driving wasn't as bad as I thought it was. Racing would be kind of enjoyable if it wasn't _insane_ and _dangerous_. And, honestly, Akashi-san, have you ever considered that you might _die…_ "

"I assure you, I have, Furihata-san," Akashi replied, in a voice so stern that Furihata snapped his mouth shut. Akashi's eyes really were locked on him now. Furihata diverted his gaze. There was silence.

When Furihata looked back up, he noticed Akashi fidgeting with the chain he wore around his neck, and suddenly wondered if he'd said something Akashi had taken offense to. Fidgeting was such a human response to awkward tension, it seemed unseemly for the 'Red Emperor of mountain pass' to do such a thing. But, all evening, Akashi had hardly been the person Furihata kept expecting him to be. Part of him felt ashamed for making so many assumptions. 

Furihata watched as Akashi continued to move his hand along the chain. He had always wondered if there was something on it -- down below where it was always tucked underneath his shirt. It had always been impossible to tell. But, today, the buttons on Akashi's shirt were undone just enough to give Furihata a small peak. As Akashi moved the chain to the side, the object slid into visibility for just a moment. And, if he wasn't mistaken, it was an ignition key. Was Akashi so obsessed with driving that he carried a spare key with him everywhere? It made Furihata wonder about the very thing Akashi had just asked him. Maybe Furihata had no clue why he drove -- but Akashi must have some idea of his own motivation.

"Akashi-san…can I ask why you drive?" Furihata asked, hesitantly.

Akashi sighed, his fingers grasping the key around his neck and squeezing it tightly.

"It's a personal matter," he replied.

"Oh…" Furihata replied, looking back down at the ground. "That's ok."

"But...between defeating me, providing me with this lovely meal, and the fact that I may not see you again, I suppose you have earned the right to know."

Furihata's eyes widened his heart racing. "Y-you don't have to!" he began to protest.

"I wish to," Akashi replied.

Furihata nodded, and forced himself to make eye contact with Akashi once more.

"You see," Akashi began, with a small sigh, "my father wasn't always the dispassionate man he became. When he was younger, he used to brush off his responsibilities at times. He and a few of his classmates from his old boarding school would go out to the _togue_ and smoke and watch the racers."

"Did he race?" Furihata asked.

Akashi chuckled quietly and shook his head. "I doubt he had the aptitude for it," he replied. "My mother told me that he tried once, spun out, and never tried again. He's difficult, like that."

Akashi smiled, and Furihata took it as a cue that it was ok to laugh. Akashi seemed to respond positively to that, his smile widening, though his eyes were distant and unfocused.

"No, he didn't race. He simply loved to watch. And, more than anything, he loved to watch the best racer on the pass -- 'the Red Empress.'"

Furihata's eyes widened. 'Red Empress?' But that was just like Akashi's nickname….

"Racers across Kanto had trouble believing the fastest racer in Tokyo was a woman, but those who saw her race said her skill was unparalled," Akashi continued. "They say she could drift as well as a professional. That she could make an FR look like a 4-wheel drive. I never had the chance to see. I wasn't old enough to be out so late, around so many strangers. But I do remember that she was beautiful. She got her nickname from her long, red hair, and her fondness for red vehicles. The last one she owned was an FC..." Akashi's fingers wrapped around the key on his neck once more, and Furihata gasped.

"I'm not sure how my father seduced her," Akashi shook his head. "I wasn't old enough to be curious, and father would never tell me now. I'll never get the chance to ask."

Furihata's palms felt sweaty and his throat heavy. His heart ached for Akashi, and he hated the fact he had ever seen him as so unapproachable, when all this time Akashi was carrying a heavy loss in his heart. Could it be that the reason Akashi was begging him to come back to the _togue_ was not merely for a revenge match, or to test Furihata's skills, but because he was lonely?

"No one is sure of the details, but she crashed the FC off of the third hairpin," Akashi said quietly, his eyes cold and lost to space behind Furihata's head. "If I hadn't been old enough to know, my father probably would have tried to hide his knowledge of cars. He spent the rest of my childhood begging me not to race."

"So why do you do it?" Furihata asked, wincing at his own question, hoping it wasn't too insensitive. But he didn't even know anyone who had died in an accident, and, still, the entire prospect of racing had always scared him. How was Akashi not afraid?

"I never got to see my mother race, but she told me stories" Akashi replied, fortunately seeming to take the question with no offense. "I never saw her smile brighter than when we talked about cars. She'd buy me toy models, and sometimes, if she saw me playing with a car she had raced again, she'd take the toys and recreate the stories of her own battles. Until that final race, she had never lost." He shook his head, but carried on.

"She told me that it was her dream to become the fastest racer in Japan. She had hoped to travel to other prefectures when I was a bit older. My father used to think she could even go pro. But she never had that chance."

"I know I'm supposed to carry on my father's legacy -- to run the family business. And it's not even that I don't want to. In many ways, I do. But I owe her the same respect I owe my father.  I will become the fastest in Japan." His eyes shown with pure determination, sending a shiver down Furihata's spine.

"So…the key you wear around your neck…?" Furihata asked.

"The spare key to her FC," Akashi replied. "I always keep it with me as a reminder. She's the reason I drive a red RX-7 as well -- though, I drive the FD, as you know."

Furihata nodded. "Sorry if I judged you," he said. He felt sad, for what had happened in Akashi's past, but mostly he felt guilt. Guilt for having judged Akashi for street racing, for telling him it was dangerous, for not being able to share as good of a reason for why he drove.

"You needn't apologize, Furihata," Akashi replied. "I did not tell this to shame you. I told you this because I trust you. And, perhaps, because I wish you would come back. No two racers have the same motivation. Racing is deeply personal, and that's what draws me to it. Even in following my mother's dream I have discovered passions that are truly my own. You seem so convinced that you are nothing more than average, Furihata. But I think, if you hone your racing ability, you'd realize that I am right about you. There's something special about you."

"I'll think about it," Furihata said, with a small nod of the head.

"Not good enough," Akashi replied, shaking his head.

"Seriously?" Furihata whined.

"Perhaps this will give you something else to think about," Akashi retorted, reaching across the table and taking Furihata's hand in his own.

Furihata felt his cheeks flush.

Akashi pressed a small kiss to the back of Furihata's hand, before letting go. "I'll see you Saturday night," he said with a grin.

 


End file.
